


Now That I’ve Found You

by takemetofantasyland



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-12 15:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16875636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemetofantasyland/pseuds/takemetofantasyland
Summary: Anya is an assistant baker at a bakery/cafe in the city. Dmitry is a smooth-talking con man who frequents the cafe. When Dmitry drops off an envelope addressed to Anya, she has no choice but to take his offer into consideration. It might just take her to Paris.A holiday fic based on a blend of Hallmark/Lifetime Christmas films. Mostly Broadway based, with a peppering of easter eggs from the animated film.





	1. The Red Envelope

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a couple Hallmark-ish holiday films. So, suspend your disbelief a little every now and then. Hallmark movies are cliche. You know what you've signed up for. :)
> 
> As a side note, this fic isn't going to be Christmas in your face. It's more like the reason for character coming together, doing what they will for the holiday time of year.

Apron secured tightly in place, hair tied up in a messy bun, Anya was ready to tackle preparations for the number of customers that would be coming in and out of the shop now that the holidays had really begun. 

She pulled a ball of cookie dough that had been chilling in the fridge out and dropped it on the board on the counter. Her palm pressed into the dough to flatten it out, before taking a rolling pin to even it out. After a careful dusting of flour, she began to cut shapes with a cookie cutter. Carefully picking them up and laying them on a tray for the oven. Decorated sugar cookies and gingerbread cookies were some of the bakery’s most popular items this time of year, and she couldn’t bake and decorate them fast enough. 

“Such a nimble hand there, Anya,” A strong voice came beside her. 

She straightened out and looked up, Garik, the shop owner and head baker, was by her side. She sighed and smiled, “You know these sell the fastest this time of year."

“Indeed, and I’m grateful for your quick hand at keeping them rolling out of the oven,” Garik replied. 

Anya nodded, “Next batch is coming up soon.”

She cut the rest of the shapes and arranged them on trays. After sliding several trays into the oven, she dusted her hands on her apron and took a pause. 

The door to the shop opened and shut, a blustering wind sweeping through the cafe and bakery. A young man, his shoulders squared off by his large coat, and a worn cap on his head, dusted the snow off his shoulders as he entered the shop. 

“Welcome! We’ll be right with you!” Anya called as she headed back into the kitchen. 

The young man pulled his cap off, and waited patiently. Anya swept a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and double checked the oven. She hurried to the counter to help him.

“Good morning, Anya,” the man grinned. 

“Hello, Dmitry,” Anya replied with a fake smile as she recognized the sharp features of his face. 

Dmitry was an acquaintance, if you could even call him that. He was somewhat enigmatic and all she knew of him was that he frequented the cafe and bakery, often with his associate, Vladimir. Anya wasn’t quite sure what the relationship was between the two, and didn’t care enough to ask. That was their business. They were, however, quite friendly with Garik, and therefore if Anya wanted to keep her job—which she did—she was polite to them both when they entered the shop.

“What can I get started for you?” Anya asked. She readied herself at the cash register with a pen and paper. 

“I actually came here to talk to you,” Dmitry smiled as his eyes cast away. He reached into his pocket and appeared to rummage around for something he had saved for her.

“Talk to me?” Anya asked. She placed the pen and paper aside. 

“Yes, you see, there’s this holiday baking competition held in Paris every year. I think you’d have an excellent chance at it,” Dmitry smiled as he held out a flyer to Anya. 

She snatched the flyer from him and leaned on the counter as her eyes scanned the details. 

“Dmitry, this is for the best bakers in the world. There’s no way I could even have the chance.” Anya shook her head and shoved the flier back into his hand. 

“All I’m saying is I’ve been to many of the bakeries in the city and not one of them is as good as the work you do here,” Dmitry replied. 

Anya paused, her eyes fixed on the skyline of Paris on the flyer.

“But this is all Garik’s work. The recipes are all his.” Anya protested. 

“It’s you making it, isn’t it?” Dmitry asked. “Look, I knew Garik before you showed up, and something in the recipe changed for the better when you took over all of his baking. That’s all you.”

“I don’t know,” Anya replied. 

“What if I told you that the chance was waiting for you?” Dmitry asked. 

“What?” Anya shook her head. “I knew you were crazy, but now I’m positive you’re absolutely mad.”

Anya took a step away from the counter and paced back and forth behind the cash register. 

“How kind of you to never say a word,” Dmitry grinned. 

“Well, you’ve just been lucky,” Anya replied. “I respect Garik, he thinks highly of you. Probably because he doesn’t know you’re crazy.”

Dmitry pretended to cough to hide his laughter. 

He handed her an envelope. Anya looked at him and gingerly took it. Her careful fingers pulled the envelope open and she pulled out a beautiful card. Her eyes scanned the details written in the card.

“Dear Anya, we’re pleased to invite you to the 10th annual Holiday Baking Competition, hosted by Heiress Maria Feodorovna, in Paris,” Anya read. “Dmitry!”

A timer went off and Anya started. She handed Dmitry the envelope and ran to the kitchen. Dmitry watched as she disappeared behind a door. He glanced down at the invitation himself.

Anya returned after setting the cookies out to cool. “I don’t even understand, I didn’t enter that competition,” she added. 

“I know,” Dmitry shrugged. “I entered you.”

“Why?”

“Because your baking is good! Are you taking the trip to Paris or not?” Dmitry laughed.

Anya’s brow knit as she looked down at the envelope. “I always did want to go to Paris,” Anya said wistfully. 

“And now is your chance!” Dmitry smiled. 

Anya paused and stared at him. Dmitry had no reason to do such a thing for her. Even less so, knowing she would now be indebted to him. 

“Why are you doing this?” Anya asked. 

Dmitry smiled and shrugged, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “You don’t strike me as the type of girl who wanted to be an assistant baker for the rest of her life.”

Anya’s mouth gaped. He wasn’t wrong. But she didn’t have anything to say to that. She had been an assistant baker for as long as she could remember–literally. “How am I going to pay to go to Paris? I can barely pay to have a place to sleep at night.”

“You’ll find a way!” Dmitry grinned. “Come on! It’s Paris!”

“And I’m supposed to just go alone?” Anya asked as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Well it would be courteous of you to take the person who got you the invitation in the first place,” Dmitry smiled and shrugged. He glanced down at his watch, “Well, I’m off, let me know what you decide.”

“How?” Anya asked. 

“I’ll be around, you’ll see me,” Dmitry shrugged. He buttoned his coat and pulled his cap back on. He turned to wave as he headed to the door.

Anya watched as he exited the shop and walked back into the blustering snow. 

“Anya, those sugar cookies aren’t going to ice themselves!” Garik called. 

“Coming,” Anya mumbled as she watched Dmitry standing on the curb outside the shop. 

Dmitry held his hands in his pockets as he waited. The winter air bit at his cheeks, and his breath was visible in the air. An older man passed by and Dmitry let out a low whistle. 

The man stopped and turned over his shoulder to Dmitry. “I didn’t recognize you there, my boy!” He cried. 

“Yes, the frostbite does make one quite unrecognizable,” Dmitry chuckled. 

“Did you talk to her yet?” Vlad asked. 

“I did. I’m telling you, Vlad, I’ve seen girls all over this city and not one of them looks more like the heiress than that girl who works in the bakery.” Dmitry replied as he pointed to the bakery.

“You would know about the girls in this city,” Vlad shifted uncomfortably in the cold air. “And how are you going to get us to Paris with her?”

“She’ll see, the invitation includes three plane tickets to Paris, presumably for the baker’s team.” Dmitry replied as he started down the sidewalk. “I figured it all out before I even entered her Vlad.”

“So we’ll help her in the competition?” Vlad followed along with him.

“It’s the least we could do,” Dmitry shrugged. “In return for how much she’ll be helping us.”

“So you didn’t tell her about the reward for the missing girl?” Vlad asked, stopping short in his tracks. 

Dmitry paused and turned back to Vlad, “Not yet.”

“How could you not tell her?”

“We just need to get her close enough to Maria, that’s all,” Dmitry shifted slightly. 

Vlad stared at Dmitry. “Usually you’re a lot of talk, but it all works out for you, this time I’m not so sure. She’s supposed to travel to Paris with two strangers?”

“She did say she’s always wanted to go to Paris,” Dmitry smiled as he continued walking. 

“Yes, but that dream of going to Paris probably didn’t include dragging along a smart ass like you,” Vlad interjected. 

“Wait for it, she’ll come around. All I had to do was plant the seed.” Dmitry grinned, “Besides, who doesn’t want to see the city of lights this time of year?”

Vlad grumbled as they walked through the streets of St. Petersburg together. “I hope you’re right.”

* * *

 

After her shift ended, Anya sat at a table in the cafe. She stared at the invitation, unsure what to make of it all. On one hand, it was a free trip to Paris, somewhere she had longed to go. On the other, she was worried that it might not be everything she had dreamed it would be. 

She read the invitation over once again. 

“Included with this invitation are three paid plane tickets to Paris, for you and your baking team,” Anya read. She didn’t have a baking team, except maybe Garik. But he had to run the shop. 

She thought of Dmitry, teasing her that she could take along the person who got her the trip in the first place. After getting her a paid trip to Paris, granted it was for a baking competition, the least she could do was offer him a ticket and hope he had some baking skills himself.

“We’re all out of gingerbread, which means it must be time to go home,” Garik smiled as he came to her side. 

He had a hard exterior, but was soft to her. She was grateful to be able to work for Garik, and grateful he was so kind to her when she felt so lost. He had been kind enough to offer her a cup of tea on a the cold December night she was released from the hospital. His bakery was the only shop in walking distance with lights on, and she had been there ever since.

“I was just going, don’t worry,” Anya jumped up and grabbed her coat off the table. 

“Anya, I’m not rushing you,” Garik laughed. “What have you got there?”

“This?” Anya asked. “Oh, Dmitry brought it by earlier. He entered me in a baking competition, and they’ve asked me to fly out to Paris for the holidays.”

“I hear Paris it beautiful this time of year,” Garik smiled. 

“The problem is, I have two spare tickets for a baking team, and you’re the only person I know who bakes,” Anya said softly. 

“Anya, I have to stay here, you know Christmas Eve is one of our busiest days of the year,” Garik replied. 

“You’re right, oh, I can’t leave you here all alone!” Anya shook her head. 

“Go,” Garik said softly.

“But-”

“To bake for Maria Feodorovna is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“Then come with me!”

“No, Anya, this is for you,” Garik smiled. “Don’t worry about the shop, we’ll prep before you go. I can handle it. 

“Thank you, Garik,” Anya smiled as she clutched her coat and hat to her chest with the invitation.


	2. The City of Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a mistake in the first chapter with my math. They're attending the 10th annual baking competition, not 15th. Sorry to all! It's been updated in the first chapter.

Anya pulled her coat off as soon as she passed the threshold of the bakery. Garik was already in the kitchen, working together mixes for the day. 

“Garik, I’m sorry, I was running late this morning!” Anya called as she hurried into the kitchen. She tossed her apron string over her head and quickly tied it around her waist. 

“I need a sugar and a ginger mix, Anya!” Garik called as he kneaded out dough. 

Anya set to work with a mixer, measuring, pouring, and mixing. She took the dough and wrapped it to take to the fridge. 

Only as it started to chill did she take a breath. She wiped flour from her forehead and looked over at Garik. 

The process started all over again, and then she still had to make icing for when the cookies were ready to decorate. She and Garik worked for hours in silence, just the sounds of mixing, scraping bowls, setting sheets of cookies and the ovens opening and closing between them.

Garik disappeared, and Anya had barely noticed. When he returned to the kitchen, he was holding two steaming cups from the cafe. “Anya, take a break for just a moment, it’s going to be a long day,”

Anya thanked him for the cup, bearing only hot water and a slice of lemon. She had never cared much for tea. The warmth of the cafe cup seeped into her hands. She pushed the door to the kitchen open, and walked into the cafe. 

The sun was just starting to rise.

Anya sipped the hot water and watched the snow outside glow with the morning sun. 

She headed back to the kitchen. There was work to do yet.

Waiting on a batch of cookies, she glanced at the clock. It was time to open for the day, and as she headed to the cafe doors, regulars were already waiting for the doors to open.

Customers started to line up and Anya was immediately overwhelmed behind the counter. She didn’t even notice a familiar young man slip into the cafe. 

“I’m taking 10!” Anya called as she finished off the morning rush. 

Garick called something back that sounded like it was alright. 

Anya approached the table Dmitry was sitting at, his face concealed with the morning’s paper. 

“Is there just nowhere else in this grand city you’d rather hang out?” Anya asked.

“Pleasure to see you too, Anya,” Dmitry grinned as he lowered the paper. 

“You’re waiting on an answer, I know,” Anya replied. She sighed and crossed her arms. 

“Am I really that predictable?” 

“I really don’t know how else I’d reach you, you never left a number.” 

“So you’re going to Paris?” Dmitry asked. 

“Yes.”

“Good for you,” 

“But I need your help,” Anya added. 

“My help?” Dmitry asked. “You need _my_ help?

“Yes, the trip covers three plane tickets, and I need a team of bakers to go with me. I don’t know if you know anything about baking, but at least you could stand there and look decent.” Anya replied. 

“So you think I look decent?” Dmitry’s lips curled into a smirk. 

“No, but I can’t look like a mad woman trying to do this all alone.” Anya said. She grew quiet. “And to thank you, for doing this for me.”

“Well, it sounds like you’ve got one ticket left. You have any plans for that one?” Dmitry asked. 

“No,” Anya shook her head. 

“My friend Vlad knows the city, he might be of good use.” Dmitry suggested. 

Anya paused for a moment to think. “Sure, why not.”

Dmitry offered his hand and Anya shook it. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Not so fast, I’m not going to let you two stand there like fools. You’re going to come to the bakery before dawn and learn how to bake, while helping Garik and I prepare for the holiday while I am away.”

“Whatever gets us on that plane to Paris.” Dmitry smiled. 

* * *

The next morning Dmitry and Vlad showed up at the bakery before dawn. As Anya opened the door for them, Dmitry yawned and stretched.

“Don’t act like this is early for you,” Anya chided as she led them to the kitchen. “Put these on, and wash your hands,” Anya said as she handed them aprons. Her eyes fixed on Dmitry.

Dmitry and Vlad slid the aprons on and set to work. 

Anya paced nervously and watched over Vlad and Dmitry as they worked. She scolded Dmitry for leaving a messy work station and grumbled as she grabbed a towel to wipe it down. 

But she was thankful for the extra hands. She never would have been able to make enough dough to keep Garik rolling out cookies through the holiday, especially as it grew closer.

Eventually, Anya kept to her station, icing the cookies. She was the only one with a steady enough hand for the delicate designs.  

After a long day of work Anya sat at a table in the cafe with Dmitry and Vlad. 

“Say, Anya, have you ever heard of the heiress to the Romanov family, Anastasia Romanov?” Dmitry asked lightly. 

“Anastasia Romanov… no doesn’t sound familiar,” Anya shook her head. “Why?”

“I’ve been reading up on some Romanov history, you know we’ll be baking for Maria Feodorovna, yes?”

“You read?” Anya asked flatly. 

Dmitry jumped up from his chair to lurch across the table at Anya and Vlad immediately pulled him down into his seat.  

Dmitry cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s very important one of us knows the history of the Romanov family before they were all tragically killed in a car accident. You haven’t heard? It was all over the news! They all died in the accident, except for the youngest daughter, Anastasia.”

“No one knows what happened to her,” Vlad added. 

Anya shook her head.

“You should read up on it. It would er- be good for you to know, incase you meet Maria herself.” Dmitry added.

“Well even if I did, I don’t think the first thing that is going to come up is going to be how her family tragically died.” Anya replied. 

“Yes but er- you wouldn’t want to uh- embarrass yourself in front of the heiress. She’s known to have a short temper.” Dmitry replied. 

“And how do you know so much about the heiress?” Anya demanded. 

“Because I told you, I read the book!” Dmitry cried. He grumbled and ran his fingers through his messy hair. 

“The baking competition is in honor of her granddaughter, the Anastasia Romanov.” Vlad said matter-of-factly. 

“So her family dying is a little more relevant than you might think.” Dmitry added. “Just– read the book.”

“Between now and going to Paris?” Anya asked. 

“Or skim it. It would serve you well to know a little bit about the family.” Dmitry said. 

Vlad shot him a concerned glance. Dmitry gathered his things and got up from the table. “I’ll see you both in the morning.”

* * *

After weeks of preparation, Anya could barely believe the night had come when they would be flying to Paris. It had seemed so distant, like something from a dream, But with her suitcase packed she nearly had to pinch herself to remind her it was real.

“Anya,” Garik called as Anya grabbed her coat off the rack.

She turned around to look at him. He handed her an envelope. “Make me proud,” he was misty eyed as Anya looked down at the envelope.

“Garik-” Anya began.

“A bonus. For the holiday.” Garik said softly. 

Anya thanked him and couldn’t stop herself from embracing him.

“You better get going, or you’re going to miss your flight.”

“I will, thank you!” Anya cried. She pulled on her coat and hat and grabbed the suitcase she had brought with her

Dmitry and Vlad met her at the bakery and the three grabbed a cab to the airport. It still all seemed so surreal. 

As they sat in the airport at their gate, Anya stared at the necklace she often wore tucked into her shirt. _Together in Paris_

“Hey, don’t be nervous,” Dmitry said softly.

“I’m not nervous. Or at least I wasn’t,” Anya stared at her necklace. 

“Stop messing with that, it makes you look nervous,” Dmitry replied. 

Anya grumbled, “I need some air.”

“Perhaps I should accompany-” Dmitry suggested.

“No! Air from you!” Anya protested. 

Vlad snorted as Anya walked down the terminal alone. 

“She certainly has a mind of her own,” Vlad said nonchalantly. 

“Yeah I hate that,” Dmitry muttered. 

“She has Nicholas’ eyes, have you noticed?” Vlad asked. 

“A coincidence, perhaps,” Dmitry replied as he opened the book about the Romanov family to a page he had tabbed. “Only more convincing to the Heiress Maria.”

Vlad closed his eyes, and Dmitry was silent as he scanned through the immediate family history once again. 

Anya returned after her brief walk and plopped down beside Dmitry. “I think we’re to board soon. I’m not sure how all of this works, I’ve never flown anywhere. I’ve never even left St. Petersburg.”

“Paris is quite a trip for you, then?” Dmitry asked. 

“I guess every girl dreams of going to Paris at some point or another,” Anya said whistfully. 

There was a boarding call for their flight, and Anya, Dmitry and Vlad got in line to board. As they boarded the plane, Vlad quickly found their seats. Anya took the window, Dmitry in the middle, and Vlad on the aisle. 

At the final boarding call passengers filled in and flight attendants completed final checks. Anya peered out the window to look at the tarmac.

The seatbelt sign flashed on and Anya took a deep breath. This was it. They were going to Paris. 

A flight attendant ran down the aisle beside Vlad and the next thing they heard was a thud and a loud bang. Anya was startled and Dmitry placed a hand on her arm. He craned his neck to see what was happening behind them.

Anya’s breath quickened and she covered her face with her hands. Dmitry wrapped an arm around her as she curled down into a ball in her seat. 

“Anya, it’s okay,” Dmitry breathed. “What’s going on back there, Vlad?”

Vlad turned around to look behind them. “Tricky door to the overhead bin. She’s got it now, lord help her when she has to get it back open.”

Anya shook as she hunched over.

“Anya, it’s okay, it was just a door slamming shut.” Dmitry said softly. 

He turned to look at Vlad and Vlad shrugged. 

Anya sat up straight and tried to calm her breathing. 

“Ma’am, are you alright?” A flight attendant came to their row. 

“She’s fine, just a little nervous. First time on a plane.” Dmitry said quickly. 

“We can’t take off with her in this condition.”

Anya inhaled, her shoulders still shaking, “I- I’m okay.”

“Can I get you some water?” The flight attendant asked. 

“Please,” Dmitry replied. “She’s quite all right, just nerves.”

“Sir, please, I need her to speak.”

“I’m fine. Just water please,” Anya said softly. 

The flight attendant nodded and headed down the aisle to get water. 

“What was that?” Dmitry asked quietly. 

“I-I don’t know! The sound of the slamming door just sounded like something I’ve heard before, I’m just not sure what. It was just ...startling.”

“You’re not sure?”

“No, I-I can’t remember.” Anya shrugged. 

“Can’t remember?”

“Yes, when I was a teenager I’m told I was injured very badly, and I must have hit my head. I have very few memories of before I was 15.”

Dmitry’s brow knit as he listened. 

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I just don’t remember.”

Dmitry nodded as he was lost in thought.

* * *

 

As the plane landed, Anya was glued to the window. The lights were so beautiful at night, unlike anything she had seen before. 

Dmitry stretched as they stepped into the terminal. Anya pulled the invitation from her bag. “We have a hotel at this address. The competition is putting us up in a pretty grand place.”

Dmitry took the invitation from her and looked at it. “I didn’t know I was actually sending you on vacation,” he laughed. 

“Please, the rundown inn down the street from the bakery would be a vacation for me. This is like living in a dream!” Anya replied.

As they stepped onto the streets of Paris, Anya wanted to soak it all in. She looked at all the lights, all the people, and everything going on around them. 

After walking several blocks, Dmitry paused. “I think this is it.”

They stopped and looked up at a grand building.

“This? No this can’t be it.” Anya shook her head.

Dmitry looked down at the invitation and then back at the building.

“This looks like where the Queen of England would stay on vacation.” Anya added.

Anya snatched the invitation out of his hand. The building number did match the one on the invitation. 

“After you, my lady.” Dmitry gestured to the door. Anya stuck her tongue out at him. “Like living in a dream, remember?”

The hotel was the most luxurious building Anya had ever been in. She imagined this must be what living in a palace felt like. 

She checked in at the front desk and got the key to their room. Dmitry and Vlad followed her up to the room. 

“It has two bedrooms.” Anya said as she opened the door and they stepped into the room. “This is better than the apartment I pay rent for!”

Dmitry laughed. “Should we get settled for a bit and then maybe eat dinner?”

“Yes, I’m exhausted.” Anya replied. 

They looked around in the suite style room. Two bedrooms and a living area. Anya claimed one bedroom, and Vlad the other. Leaving Dmitry to the sofa in the living area. 

Anya changed out of her work clothes and into a dress for the evening. She fixed her hair and returned to the living area, where Dmitry was sprawled on the sofa while he waited. 

“Comfortable?” Anya asked. 

“I’ll get used to-” Dmitry turned over the sofa to look at her. She looked like a completely different person cleaned up. With that the wheels were turning in his mind. If on an average day she could make herself look like two different people, surely she could make herself look like the granddaughter of an heiress. 

“Is something wrong?” Anya asked. 

“No,” He cleared his throat. “Are you ready for dinner?” 

“Yes, I’ll grab Vlad, I think he might have dozed off.” Anya turned to peer into the other bedroom. “Do you think we could take a walk to look at some Christmas decorations after dinner?”

“I think we might want to rest after dinner,” Dmitry replied. 

“You can rest once we’re back in St. Petersburg. We’re in Paris! Can you believe it?”

Dmitry laughed. It turned out Anya won him over, and they spent some time after dinner walking through the city to look at Christmas decorations. 

After a long day, and longer night, Anya crawled into bed. They had work to do tomorrow and a meet and greet for the competition. She was going to need the strength. And as soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep. 


	3. Introductions

She had seen the sun rise countless times. But never had she seen it rise over the skyline of Paris. 

Anya sat at the window sill, watching the quiet world wake up. Small figures began to appear as workers left for early shifts. Wives opened windows to let the morning in. Cars and bikes looked like ants traveling the streets beneath her window. 

There was a part of her that knew she could never make it up to Dmitry. He selflessly entered her name in a contest, and here she was, in Paris. A city she she thought she would only see in her dreams. 

“Good morning,” Vlad said softly. 

Anya turned over her shoulder and smiled, “Good morning, Vlad.”

“Quite a view, yes?” He leaned against the window frame with her. 

“Indeed. And to think there are people who get to see this every day.” Anya sighed softly as she stared out the window. 

Vlad turned to look at Dmitry. He was still asleep on the sofa with a pillow covering his head. Vlad scoffed, “I envy him. Look at him, he can fall asleep anywhere.”

Anya turned to look at Dmitry, or what she could see of him. 

“Well, we have work to do,” Anya said.

“We do,” Vlad agreed. 

He walked over to pull the pillow away from Dmitry. Dmitry started awake and grumbled as he looked at Vlad. “We have places to be,” Vlad said as Dmitry ran his hands through his hair. 

Anya laughed and Dmitry glared at her. “I believe there’s a cafe around the corner. I think we have just enough time for tea and a pastry before we have to meet for the competition.”

Dmitry was solemn having just woken up. Anya wondered how long it took his attitude to arrive in the morning. Perhaps all he was lacking was a cup of tea. 

* * *

Dmitry muttered under his breath as he walked ahead of Anya and Vlad.

“What is he muttering about? The cold? It’s not as cold as St. Petersburg!” Anya said as she watched him. 

“Who knows? He’s never satisfied.” Vlad shrugged. 

Anya looked down at the address for the hotel where the baking competition would take place. “I think it’s on this street,” Her brow knit as she looked at the address. 

“Ah, here it is!” Vlad smiled. 

They stepped into the grand building from the cold. Anya stood for a moment to look at it all. Large Christmas trees decorated with ribbons and baubles lining the hotel lobby. A series of tables displaying gingerbread houses created by the kitchen staff wove its way through the grand entryway. It was everything she had ever loved about the season wrapped in one room. 

“Where are we supposed to go?” Dmitry asked. 

“It doesn’t say,” Anya flipped the card over. 

A woman in a uniform walked past. 

“Excuse me! Where is the baking competition?” Anya called. 

“Down the hall to the left,” The woman smiled. 

Anya thanked her and led Dmitry and Vlad down a hallway. 

Vlad came to a halt as they started down the hallway. Anya paused and stopped to look at him, his feet paralyzed with fear. 

Dmitry frowned and followed Vlad’s gaze to a woman was speaking to a man sitting at a table with name cards. She was petite, but her voice was loud and her presence was booming.  

“Who? What are we looking at?” Anya spun around as Vlad frantically tried to hide himself from her view. 

“Lily.” Dmitry replied, “The old flame Vlad never shuts up about.

“I mentioned her once!”

“Once?” Dmitry teased. “Once a day?”

Vlad scoffed, “It’s not that often, though one doesn’t quickly forget the best years of his life. She’s an old friend. Before things… went south.”

“Maybe she’s forgotten?” Anya suggested. 

“Oh no. No, no, no.” Vlad shook his head. 

Anya turned to look at the woman again. She was chatting up the young man at the table checking bakers in. Vlad was holding his breath as he looked at the woman. 

“I’ll check in with Anya, you go talk to her,” Dmitry said cooly. 

Vlad shook his head and planted his feet on the floor. Dmitry gave him a slight push.

“I can’t go talk to her, not now,”  

“Are you kidding me? She’s probably going to be around for the whole competition!” Dmitry said. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” Vlad nodded. He took a few reluctant steps toward the woman. 

Anya and Dmitry checked in for the day, and the young man at the table handed them their name tags. 

Anya thanked him and walked with Dmitry as they pinned the nametags on. Anya looked down as she walked and Dmitry took the lead into a large ballroom, where they assumed the competition would take place. 

She struggled for a moment with her tag as she trailed behind. Anya felt her shoulder clip something—or someone— and she gasped and looked up. 

A tall, thin man had turned back to look at her. His dark hair was perfectly coiffed, and his suit was perfectly pressed. 

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going!” Anya quickly apologized. 

“That’s alright, no harm was done. You’re one of the bakers competing, I presume?” The man asked. 

“Yes, I am,” Anya replied. 

“What was your name again?”

“Anya,”

“Anya…?” Her name rolled on his tongue.

“That’s right,” Anya’s brow knit. 

“I’m Gleb Vaganov, one of the judges for this year’s competition,”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Anya nodded. 

Dmitry turned back to look for Anya, realizing she was no longer by his side. He stood at a distance and watched her speaking to a man too stuffy for his own liking. The longer Anya chatted with the man, the more he felt like he should interrupt.

Dmitry approached the pair, “Who’s this?”

“Gleb Vaganov, he’s one of the judges,” Anya smiled. “Oh! This is Dmitry, he’s one of my teammates.”

“Pleasure.” Dmitry glared at the man.

“Likewise,” Gleb replied. 

“Anya, we better get going,” Dmitry said quickly. “We have to get to the floor for introductions.”

“Oh right, grab Vlad, will you?” Anya smiled. 

“Sure,”

“It was so nice to meet you, Mr. Vaganov,” Anya smiled sheepishly.

“The pleasure was mine,” Gleb smiled at her as Dmitry searched for Vlad. 

Anya nodded and headed into the ballroom.

* * *

 

“I don’t like that Gleb guy,” Dmitry said as they stood at their station in the ballroom. 

“What?” Anya fixed her apron string and looked up at Dmitry. 

“Something’s not right about him,” Dmitry shook his head. 

“You barely spoke to him for a minute!”

“No, I just know,” Dmitry turned away from her.

Anya watched him as he paced in their station. 

It was introductions day. All they had to do was stand in their station and greet other baking teams. It was simple enough. Simple enough if Vlad wasn’t concerned about the whereabouts of his long lost love and Dmitry had been more of a people person. 

“Why do you groan every time someone approaches our station?” Anya snapped. 

“It’s all, La-di-da, c’est la vie, until the competition where they’d trip you on your way to the oven if they could make it look like an accident.” Dmitry scoffed.

“That’s foul play.”Anya replied. 

"And?”

“It’s not allowed! It says in the rules!”

“You think all of these people are going to be following the rules?”

“If they don’t they would be disqualified,” Anya crossed her arms

“But if they can get away with it–“

“Why do you always assume the worst in people?” Anya demanded. 

“Because I know people,” Dmitry shrugged. “They’re out to cheat and lie in whatever way they can, if it benefits them.”

“You’re so cynical.” Anya sighed as she stepped away from him. 

A woman and her teammates walked up to Anya and greeted her. Anya smiled and politely shook her hand. 

It was the same over and over. The teams took turns greeting each other. 

The room fell silent as an elderly woman entered with the woman Vlad had spoken with briefly. Anya turned to look where everyone’s gaze was drawn. 

Dmitry leaned over to her, “that’s the heiress,”

Anya stared at the woman. She looked much more stern than she had imagined when Dmitry had described the event. Although she wasn’t sure what she had expected, the woman had lost all of her closest relatives.

“You don’t think she’ll greet the bakers individually, do you?” Anya whispered.

"By tradition she only greets the bakers on the day of the competition.” Dmitry replied.

Anya nodded. 

The woman stood at the front of the ballroom with her cane. She gazed over all of the competitors as the woman by her side spoke into her ear. The elderly woman turned and walked out of the room.

“What was that?” Anya asked. 

“Only an appearance,” Dmitry replied. 

“With Lily by her side I should have known!” Vlad added. 

Anya looked at Vlad. 

“I think that’s all until after lunch,” Anya said as she looked down at their schedule. “Should we try to fit in some sightseeing? We’re in Paris, after all.”

* * *

That evening Anya took a stroll with Vlad and Dmitry. She loved the lights and the way store windows looked like they had been pulled from a film. 

“The lights are so beautiful,” Anya said softly as they walked through a Christmas Market. 

“I don’t think even a photo could capture it,” Dmitry replied as he followed her gaze. 

Anya walked close to Dmitry, gently holding his arm as they walked together. The market was crowded, and they stuck closely by each other. There was a certain warmth she felt staying near Dmitry. Anya was so small she was easily tossed around in crowds. Dmitry was much taller than her and held his own in crowded spaces.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” Anya said softly as they walked. 

Dmitry looked down at her as she held his arm. 

“Anya, what did you say on the plane about not being able to remember things?” Dmitry asked. 

“Oh, I have very few memories from before I was a teenager. The nurses at the hospital said I was badly injured.”

“And you don’t ever wonder where you came from, before that, I mean?”

“I do, occasionally. I’ve always hoped I had a family, somewhere.” Anya said. 

“And you’ve never tried to find them?”

“Time passes.”

“So you’ve tried?”

“No, it’s been hard enough keeping myself alive.”

Dmitry’s brow knit.

“Have you ever thought about the possibility that you might be an heiress?”

“I guess every girl would dream,” Anya replied thoughtfully, “But it is hard to imagine when you’re working 12 hour shifts and sometimes more.”

“Anya, I’ve met a lot of girls in the city–“

“I’m not surprised,” Anya interjected. 

“Hey!” Dmitry snapped. He cleared his throat, “What I was saying was, I’ve never seen anyone who looks more like the heiress Anastasia Romanov than you.”

“Are you saying you think I am Anastasia Romanov?” Anya asked. 

“I’m just saying you bear a striking resemblance,”

Anya pulled away from him and took a few steps beyond. Dmitry paused as he watched her kick at the slush on the sidewalk.

“I knew you were crazy, and I was stupid enough to bring you along with me!” Anya cried. 

“No, Anya, listen to me!” Dmitry cried, “It’s a resemblance. Lucky for you, the heiress Maria is here and can probably tell if you were her granddaughter.”

“Me? An heiress? That’s crazy,” Anya replied. 

“And if you’re not, she will know right away, and it’s an honest mistake,” Vlad added. 

“I don’t know,” Anya said quietly. 

“You family could be right in front of you,” Dmitry said. “You just have to be willing to take the chance.”

Anya paused, lost in thought. 

“I just want to look at the lights,” Anya finally broke the silence.

She walked ahead of the pair, pulling her coat close around her body. 

“Anya, wait–“ Dmitry called after her. 

Vlad gently touched his arm and shook his head. Dmitry turned back to look at him.

* * *

 

After returning to the hotel room, Anya headed to her room. 

“Anya, I’m sorry,” Dmitry said as she slammed the door to her room shut.

“You’ve really messed this one up,” Vlad said.

“You’re not helping!” Dmitry replied.

“You were the one who just told her you think she’s Anastasia!”

“Because _I_ do!”

“You don’t!”

“There’s a resemblance!”

Anya sat alone in her room. An Heiress. He really thought she might be an heiress. She certainly didn’t feel like one.

Dmitry stripped his jacket off and plopped himself down on the sofa. Vlad took a seat in the armchair beside him.

Vlad pulled his wallet out and looked at a small photo he kept. It was worn on the edges and faded with time. A young man with a petite woman, both in their early thirties. Four young girls were huddled with them, each varying in age. He turned the photo over to see worn handwriting on the back. “Alexandra shared these with me– Maria.”

He looked at the smallest girl in the photo. Her blue eyes brilliant and her blonde hair, although styled to her mother’s liking, was still somewhat unruly. She was definitely the wildest of the bunch.

Vlad glanced at Anya’s closed door.

“So now what?” Dmitry said.

“We wait,” Vlad replied.

“For what? What if she doesn’t come out of there?” Dmitry said.

“Let her sleep on it,” Vlad replied as he tucked the photo back into his wallet.

Vlad and Dmitry were silent as they sat. Dmitry was suddenly worried they might need an alternate plan if this one didn’t go through.

Anya’s door opened and she stepped into the sitting room in her pajamas. Vlad and Dmitry looked at her.

“Gentlemen, start your lessons!” Anya smiled.

Dmitry looked at her and arched a brow. He sat up straighter and looked over at Vlad. 

“Sorry?” Dmitry asked.

“Well, I thought about it, and Vlad is right, Maria Feodrovna would know if I wasn’t her granddaughter and it’s all a mistake.” Anya said softly. “And I can’t remember what happened to me, so who’s to say I’m not the heiress,”

“The Russian social hierarchy, mostly” Dmitry replied with a shrug. 

Anya glared at him. 

“Alright, alright!” Dmitry laughed. 

“On the day of the baking competition when she comes to greet us, we’ll confront her,” Anya said. 

Dmitry nodded as he looked at Vlad. Vlad only smiled with misty eyes. 


	4. Heiress Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read this far. I felt the last couple chapters were quick and not as fluffy as I would have liked, so I hope this chapter makes up for it all. Happy holidays to all, whatever, wherever, and however you celebrate it!

On the day of the competition, the sun rose over the skyline. Dmitry stood on the balcony of their hotel room, watching the world wake up beneath them.

It was silent and somber, and he remembered why he always woke before the sun in St. Petersburg.

He heard the balcony door open and shut, and turned to look behind him. Anya was standing at the door, still in her pajamas.

“Good morning,” He said softly. He barely shifted away from the railing to look at her.

“Same to you,” She said softly. “Are you enjoying it out here?”

“I came out here to think,”

“Always thinking,” Anya said softly as she looked at him.

“There’s a lot to think about,”

She let out a soft sigh as she took a place on the railing beside him.

His face was somber. He shifted slightly as if to make a place for her on a railing.

“When I was a boy, my father used to take me to look over St. Petersburg,” Dmitry said as he gazed out over Paris. “He’d point out the tallest buildings, and the people down below us and he’d say ‘this is the best view of all of Petersburg, Dima!’”

Anya smiled and tried to keep herself from laughing. “Dima?”

Dmitry paused as he looked at her. He cleared his throat, “It’s what my father used to call me.”

“It’s cute,” she said quietly.

“Don’t you have to get dressed or something?” Dmitry said quickly as his ears flushed red.

“No, I was thinking of going like this,” Anya looked down at her pajamas.

Dmitry tried to keep a straight face, but couldn’t keep himself from cracking a smile.

“I’ll meet you and Vlad in the lobby for tea before we go,”

“Hot water with lemon?” Dmitry asked.

Anya paused as she looked at him, “Yes, you noticed?”

“You always pour three cups of hot water, but only take two tea bags.” Dmitry replied.

Anya felt her cheeks flush. She smiled at him as she walked back to the door. It was such a small detail he had picked up on.

“We’ll be downstairs,” Dmitry said quickly as she slipped inside.

* * *

“Have you ever been skating?” Anya asked as they walked to the Hotel de Ville.

“I’ve dabbled,” Dmitry replied with a smirk.

“Would you say you’re any good?” Anya teased.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,”

Anya grumbled as Dmitry paid an attendant for skate rentals. Vlad voluntarily sat out, parking himself on a bench to watch as Dmitry and Anya strapped skates on.

Anya wobbled as she took a step towards Dmitry. He laughed and watched as she tried to make it to the ice.

“Take small steps, Anya!” Dmitry called as he stepper toward the rink.

Anya took small steps, and stood on the ice, keeping her feet slightly bowed to stand up straight. Dmitry came to her side. He took small steps, gently letting his feet glide as he skated around the perimeter. Anya trailed behind him, a bit more wobbly, and her hand brushing the wall of the rink for balance.

A few laps around the rink down, Anya was starting to get the hang of it. Her balance was more stable, and her feet glided across the ice. She skated past Dmitry and couldn’t help but giggle.

“Hey!” He called as she passed by.

Anya bit her lip and took several steps to speed up. Dmitry followed close behind her.

After a couple laps, and nearly running other skaters over, Anya paused to catch her breath. Dmitry skated and came to a halt by her side.

He looked at her as if he was studying every feature of her face. Her bright blue eyes, the dampness in her bronze hair, the rosiness in her cheeks from the cold air.

He broke his gaze, and pretended to cough.

“Uh- should we do a couple more laps?” Anya asked.

Dmitry stared at her as if he had not heard her. He shook his head, “Uh- yeah, yeah for a bit–”

Anya smiled and skated slowly. Dmitry skated by her side, pulling his coat around his body. He watched as she moved effortlessly across the ice. There was a natural grace in her movement.

Anya slowed by his side and took his hand as she skated. Her fingers laced through his as they moved together.

After a few final laps, Dmitry returned the skates to the attendant. Anya smiled at him as they walked. He felt his heart pounding as he looked at her, a light dusting of snow caught in her hair, her giant scarf wrapped over her face.

* * *

 

That afternoon they arrived back at the ballroom for the baking competition. Anya paced nervously in their station even before the clock began its official countdown. 

Maria Feodorovna stood at the front of the room with the woman Anya now recognized as Lily. Her gaze fell upon the room as bakers and their teams waited for their instructions.

“Welcome to the 10th Annual Holiday baking competition, in honor of the Heiress Anastasia Romanov, and all the members of the Romanov family, lost in that tragic car accident ten years ago,” Lily said solemnly. “I introduce to you, Maria Feodorovna, the only remaining heir to the family name.”

“Haven’t I heard that enough, Lily,” Maria said coldly.

“Right, well, moving on, Maria will be giving you her baking instructions, as per tradition,” Lily nodded and handed the microphone to Maria.

“This year, I’m looking for something a bit unique. Filled with whimsy, and a bit childish, in honor of my Anastasia,” Maria said. “Start the clock!”

The giant clock in the ballroom began to count down from four hours.

“That’s it?” Anya cried as she turned to Dmitry.

“What?”

“That’s all the direction she’s going to give?” Anya looked at Dmitry frantically.

“Yeah,” Dmitry paused as other teams started to scramble to collect ingredients.

“I thought she would say what to make! Like ‘make a cake!,’ or ‘make a gingerbread house!’ or something!” Anya said quickly.

“She did! Something simple, whimsical and childlike.” Dmitry replied.

“I need to think,” Anya paced back and forth, the clock ticking down behind them.

“Sugar cookies,” Dmitry said as Anya passed him.

She turned on her heel and looked at him, “Sugar cookies?”

“Yeah, you make the best ones,” Dmitry said softly.

“They’re too simple,” Anya shook her head. “I’m going to go home to Petersburg and say I got to bake for the Heiress Maria Feodorovna and I made her sugar cookies? No.”

Dmitry caught her arm to keep her from pacing.

“Think, Anya! Simple, whimsical, childlike.”

“You’re right, we’re running out of time as we think.” Anya nodded.

Dmitry nodded and collected ingredients from around their station. He preoccupied Anya with making mixes as he glanced at the competition around them. Teams were working on cakes, gingerbread houses, and other desserts he had never seen before.

Anya worked quickly to get the dough chilling. She placed dough in their freezer and took a breath as she looked at Dmitry. They took a pause as they waited for the dough to chill.

He offered a smile. Anya brushed stray hairs out of her face.

She looked over Dmitry’s shoulder at one of the other teams working in a station beside them. “Look at that sugar work!” Anya said.

Dmitry turned over his shoulder and looked at the team peeling hardened sugar for a cake design from wax paper.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it!” Dmitry said quickly.

“Dmitry these people are so talented!”

“And so are you! You don’t need some sugar that looks like a snowflake to get people to like your work!” Dmitry held her shoulders firmly.

Anya stared at him.

“You’re right,” Anya replied. “Let’s get to rolling and cutting.”

Anya took the dough and rolled it out. She, Dmitry and Vlad set to work with cookie cutters. Dmitry quickly lifted the cut shapes and placed them on trays. He took two trays and headed to the ovens.

As Dmitry slid two trays in their oven and shut it, another baker was sliding a tray into her assigned oven.

“Sugar cookies?” She asked.

Dmitry turned to look at her, “yes.”

“Interesting choice,” she replied. “Maria’s favorite dessert is a pound cake.”

“Well, it’s not all about her, is it,” Dmitry shrugged.

“If you’re trying to lose, it’s not!” the baker snapped.

“Well, I’d say setting yourself up to bake something because it’s the heiress’s favorite dessert is setting yourself up for failure, just my opinion.” Dmitry shrugged. “The competition is judged by three judges, not just Maria. And based on the theme, and creativity, something a dessert baked with arrogance would be lacking.”

She crossed her arms over her chest as Dmitry walked back to their station.

“What are you smiling about?” Anya asked.

“I told you we’d be fine,” Dmitry shrugged.

“What did you do!” Anya snapped.

“Nothing! But the competition is so frantic to impress Maria, they’re throwing all else out the window.”

After working frantically for hours, Anya and Dmitry arranged their decorated cookies on a platter for presentation.

“We did it!” Anya beamed.

Dmitry grinned as he looked at her.

The clock stopped at zero and a buzzer went off.

“Bakers! Put down your utensils!” Lily called.

Dmitry gently wrapped his arm around Anya, in a half, we’re-just-colleagues hug. Anya turned and wrapped her arms around him. He started as he looked down at her.

“Thank you,” Anya said softly, “Whatever happens, thank you.”

“No problem,” Dmitry said as he wrapped his arms around her.

Lily called for each team to place their creations on a table, for sampling. Anya carried their tray to the front, among cakes and desserts she didn’t even know the names of.

The judges took a sampling of each dessert, and Anya watched, her heart pounding in her chest.

She was fixed on Maria. Her plate filled with a taste of each dessert, her face was stern through the sampling.

Anya watched as Maria looked at the tray of cookies. Maria picked one up and her eyes met with Anya’s.

The judges disappeared to discuss their decision. Anya paced nervously around their station. “Anya, relax, it’s going to be fine.” Dmitry said softly.

Maria and Lily returned with an envelope.

The room fell silent.

“While there were many brilliant and interesting desserts here today, only one can be the top dessert.” Maria began. “Only one fell best into my directions. Only one can be today’s winner.”

Anya clasped her hands together.

“Will the team who baked the sugar cookies please step forward.” Maria said.

Anya couldn’t believe it. She took Dmitry and Vlad’s hands and stepped forward.

“Your cookies were both innovative, and whimsical. They’re a childish delight, bringing back many memories of my grandchildren. Your dessert is this year’s top dessert.”

Anya let out a small yelp as Lily walked toward them to present an envelope. Dmitry looked down at her and picked her up and spun her around. “You did it!”

“Your cash prize, Ms.–” Lily began.

“Anya,” Anya said quickly.

“Anya–”

“Just Anya.” Anya replied, “And my teammates, Dmitry and Vlad.”

Lily nodded.

“Thank you!” Anya said quickly.

Lily nodded.

* * *

 

“There’s a cocktail party tomorrow night for all the competitors and to say farewell. That’s where we’re going to introduce you to Maria.” Dmitry said as they stood on the balcony of their hotel room. “It’s been a long day for you, and all of us.”

“I think I’m going to call it a night. All the stress and nerves from today has left me exhausted.” Anya said softly. “Thank you again, for getting me here,”

“It’s not a problem, I told you.”

Anya nodded, “Goodnight, Dmitry.”

“Goodnight,”

Dmitry stared over Paris. After tomorrow he didn’t know if he’d ever see it again. They’d be on a flight back to St. Petersburg the day after tomorrow.

He turned in, back on the sofa, and huddled down for the night. Just as he began to drift to sleep, he heard a cry from Anya’s bedroom.

He heard a rustling and a scream, and he jumped up from the sofa. He hesitated at the door wondering if he should knock. He turned the door handle and opened the door.

“Anya!”

Anya was sobbing in her sleep.

“Anya! Wake up, you’re having a nightmare!” Dmitry said quickly.

He sat on the corner of her bed, and gently took her hand. “Anya, please listen to me!”

Anya stirred and opened her eyes.

“Anya!” Dmitry squeezed her hand.

“There was a crash and screams echoing in my ears!” Anya cried. She sat up, her shoulders still shaking.

Dmitry took her hands in his own. “You’re safe here.”

“I can still hear the screams,” Anya said.

“Anya, it was a nightmare. You’re safe now.”

“And if I close my eyes and I see them in pain again?” Anya asked.

“See who?”

“I don’t know. I just see this family, a stern woman, a man with kind eyes, and children—four of them.”

Dmitry’s brow knit.

“But it’s almost like I am one of them.” Anya said thoughtfully.

Dmitry’s face hardened as he listened to her trying to recall her family. It was a little too coincidental that she remembered being in a family that almost exactly matched the description of the Romanovs.

Anya was quiet as she tried to process everything.

“Dmitry, do you really think I could be a Romanov?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you were Maria Feodorovna, would you want me to be Anastasia?”

“Yes,”

“Why?”

“You’re strong, and smart, and I think if I was Maria, you’re exactly who I’d want you to be,”

Anya smiled. “I was beginning to think you would never pay me a compliment,”

“Then you were wrong,”

Dmitry got up from the corner of the bed and walked toward the door.

“Stay!” Anya called.

Dmitry turned over his shoulder to look at her. “Sorry?”

“Stay. Here.”

Dmitry looked at her. A woman so fearless and strong, for once looked so small and vulnerable in her bed. He took a step back to the bed.

“It’s unfair you have to sleep on the sofa. And I’m sorry,”

“It’s fine,”

“Please stay, tonight.”

He nodded as she pushed the blankets back so he could crawl in beside her. Anya turned over and curled down into the bed. Dmitry pulled the blankets over both of them, and draped his arm over her, letting her know he was there to keep her safe.

* * *

 

Anya woke the next morning to find the bed empty beside her. She looked around the room, only the door was cracked open. The chill in the air made her shiver, and she quickly got out of bed.

Her feet hit the floor, and she ran out of the room, finding the balcony door open.

Dmitry was standing alone and watching the sunrise. She should have known.

He turned back inside and halted as he saw her standing in the living area. She stared back at him.

“Merry Christmas, Anya,” Dmitry said softly.

She was still, she had forgotten what day it was all together.

“Merry Christmas,” She replied absent mindedly.

“Just a cocktail party tonight, then?”

“Yes,”

“We should find you something to wear,”

“Yes,”

He passed her, and Anya longed to be curled back in bed with his arms wrapped around her.

* * *

 

Anya, Dmitry and Vlad stood in the hotel lobby. Guests to the heiress’s Christmas cocktail party began to arrive. 

Anya shifted uncomfortably and Dmitry took her hand. “Hey, it’s going to be alright. I’ll introduce you to Maria, properly.”

Anya nodded.

Dmitry led them inside. Anya excused herself to the powder room.

“You really think you can pull this off?” Vlad asked.

“She’s the real thing, Vlad.”

“Yes, I know,”

“No, you don’t know. Last night she had a nightmare. She has nightmares about the car accident, Vlad. She described her family without me saying a word.”

Vlad’s eyes widened. “And the plan?”

“We will go through with it as if nothing has changed.”

A tall man lurked nearby as he took notice of Anya’s teammates. His brow arched as Dmitry and Vlad discussed the heiress’s reward money for returning her granddaughter. 

Anya opened the door to the powder room and walked down the hall. 

“Anya!” A man called.

“Gleb?”

“Congratulations on your win yesterday,”

“Thank you,” Anya said coldly. 

“You wouldn’t be here on any other business in Paris, would you?”

“What? No,” Anya’s brow arched as she looked at him. 

“Just checking,” Gleb replied. 

Anya’s brow knit as she walked away. She searched through the crowd for Vlad and Dmitry.

“There you are! Maria and Lily are just over there,” Dmitry said quickly. 

Anya nodded, but wondered what Gleb had meant by other business in Paris. She followed along with Dmitry, she had her end of the deal to hold up. 

“Maria,” Dmitry interrupted the woman. 

Anya hung back, not sure if she wanted to run from the room. 

Maria turned to look at him sternly.

“I apologize if I’m interrupting, but I just thought you should meet your top baker in person.” Dmitry said with a grin. 

Maria looked at him sternly. Anya was sure people approached her this way all the time. 

“She’s travelled all the way from St. Petersburg. I think you might recognize her yourself. I truly believe she is your granddaughter, Anastasia.”

Maria frowned. “I have no further interest in meeting any women who had been trained to pose as my granddaughter.”

“I know you’ve been hurt in the past, but this really is her!” Dmitry cried. 

“I know who you are, young man, you’re that con man from St. Petersburg who has been looking to train the perfect girl to be my granddaughter! I will not give you a second more of my time!”

Anya gasped as Maria brushed Dmitry off. 

Maria turned away from Dmitry. “Wait!” Dmitry shouted. 

He grabbed Maria’s arm and she turned and smacked him. Dmitry paused for a moment. “Listen to me, she had nothing to do with this! All of it was my fault! She had no idea.”

“No idea about the reward money? Well, I’ve never heard that one before,” Maria replied dryly. 

“She really didn’t! I believe in my heart she really is Anastasia. She’s come to believe it herself.”

Maria turned away from Dmitry.

“Please! You have to believe me!” Dmitry cried as she disappeared into the crowd. 

Anya stood, her hand clasped over her mouth. Her hands slowly dropped to her side. “This was all a scheme for you to con some old woman out of her money?”

“What? No!”

“I should have known! I never should have come here in the first place!” Anya pushed through the crowd.

“No! Anya! It was at first but everything is different!” Dmitry called after her as he pushed through the crowd. “You are Anastasia! The thing with-with the family!”

“No!” Anya shouted as she stopped and turned on her heel. “I don’t want to hear about anything I remembered, Dmitry! You Lied to me!”

“Anya!” Dmitry called. “Wait!”

“No! I’m leaving!”

Dmitry watched as she disappeared into the crowd. Vlad stood behind him.

Anya ran out onto the street. She was packing to go home tonight. She should have known, St. Petersburg was once her home, and always would be her home. 

“Excuse me,” A woman said. 

Anya turned over her shoulder to see an elderly woman. “Maria,”

“I’m well aware of who I am.” The woman said sternly. “I’m more interested in who you are.”

“I don’t know,” Anya shook her head. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

“That young man has trained you well,” Maria replied. “I wanted to speak to you myself.”

Maria rested her weight on her cane as she eyes Anya. 

“You did?”

“After that racket that young man made, I wanted to speak to you alone,”

“I didn’t know he was looking for the 10 million ruble reward.” Anya said softly. 

“Who are you, young woman?”

“I thought I could be Anastasia, your granddaughter, but I can’t be Anastasia unless you recognize me,” Anya replied. 

“You can’t be anyone if you don’t first recognize yourself,” The woman said. 

Anya bit her lip as she held back tears. 

“I believe you’re an honest woman,” Maria continued. “Someone raised you smart and kind, like my Anastasia.”

Anya’s eyes widened. 

“You’re a very good baker though, quite clever if I do say so myself,” Maria said. “Don’t let the intentions of that young man take away from that.”

“I’m afraid it already has,” Anya said solemnly. 

“I apologize,” Maria said calmly. “I wish you a good holiday.”

“Thank you. I wish you the same,” Anya said quickly. 

“Goodnight, Anya,” Maria turned and walked away, her cane clicking on the pavement. 

Anya paused, thinking she had caught the scent of something familiar. 

“Is that orange blossom perfume?” Anya asked as she turned back to look at Maria. 

Maria paused and turned to look back at her. “Why, yes. It was my Anastasia’s favorite.”

“Yes! I remember! When I was little, my grandmother always wore a perfume that smelled of orange blossoms. She gave me a bottle before she moved to Paris to remind me of her while she was away,” Anya’s brow knit as memories that had been so faint in her mind suddenly became clear. “I’d spritz it just once on my wrist when I missed you so much, and I remember Mama scolded Papa for letting you dote on me so,”

Maria looked at her. “Anastasia?”

“Nana?” Anya asked. 

The old woman had tears in her eyes. Anya ran to the woman and the woman opened her arms for an embrace. She held Anya tightly.

Maria pulled back to look at Anya. She ran her thumb over her cheek and studied her eyes. “Nicky’s eyes, Alix’s jaw line, the fight only a young Anastasia could have.” Maria murmured to herself. 

Anya buried her face into her grandmother’s chest. “Nana, it’s me,”

Maria held her tightly as a gentle snow fell around them.

* * *

 

Anya packed her suitcase at the hotel, unsure what to make of the evening. Maria had offered to let her stay in Paris, so she wouldn’t be needing the ticket home. 

As she packed her belongings, she looked around. Dmitry’s things were gone. 

It was a lot to take in all in one night. She wanted to apologize to Dmitry for being upset with him. It was the least she could do. 

A parcel her grandmother had given her sat on the bed beside her. She had been hesitant to open it. Her careful fingers tore the paper off, to find a box. Anya lifted the lid and found a check inside with a note. 

_ My Nastya, _

_ This world you were born into may not be the one you choose to live in. I have enclosed a check with enough money to take you wherever your heart desires. We will always have each other, but most of all, I want you to be happy. _

_ -Nana _

Anya thought of Dmitry. This was enough money for her and Dmitry and Vlad to get out of Petersburg, if they so desired. 

She quickly packed her things and hurried to the address Maria had written down. She frantically knocked on the door of the apartment. Lily answered the door and let her inside. Maria was sitting on the sofa, Vlad was sitting opposite in an armchair. 

“Where is Dmitry?” Anya asked. 

“My child, he left for the airport,” Vlad said quickly. 

“I need to speak with him!” Anya cried as she turned out of the the apartment and started to run. Maria smiled as she watched her granddaughter. 

After hailing a taxi to the airport, Anya ran into the terminal. She hurried through airport security, and followed a sign matching the direction of the gate for a flight to St. Petersburg.

She ran down the terminal and stopped at the gate. Dmitry was sitting alone, staring out the window at the night sky. 

Anya came up from behind and he turned over his shoulder after seeing her in the reflection of the window. 

“Anya?”

“Where are you going?”

“Petersburg.”

“You were right,”

“What?”

“She was my Nana after all,”

“Glad I was instrumental in your reunion.” Dmitry said coldly.

“Dmitry, I wanted to thank you, you’ve done more for me than I could have ever asked for. And more than I could ever repay you for.”

He wouldn’t look at her. 

“Please, Dmitry, stay one more night,” Anya said softly. 

“Anya, I’m not from your world. A dream is the closest I’ll ever come to all of this again.”

“This isn’t even my world!” Anya retorted, “I didn’t even know I had a family until tonight! Because of you!”

“If we ever cross paths again, don’t wave or nod in my direction. I can’t stand being in love with someone I can’t have,” Dmitry said as he rose to his feet. 

“Dmitry, you’re being dense!” Anya snapped. 

“People like me don’t end up with people like you,” Dmitry said as he finally looked at her. 

“I beg to disagree, Dima!” Anya cried. 

She reached up and pulled him down to her eye level and pressed her lips to his. He froze at her sudden touch.

He closed his eyes and melted into her touch. Pulling her close and kissing her deeply. 

Anya pulled back slightly and stared into his dark eyes. “Merry Christmas, Dima,”

He laughed. “Merry Christmas, Anya,”

He pulled back and wrapped his arms around her. 

“So where to?” Anya asked. 

“What do you mean? Aren’t you staying with your grandmother and Lily and Vlad?”

“No,” Anya said softly. “My Nana wrote me a check to go wherever I wanted to go. There’s enough for two.”

“She– what?”

“I’m not meant for that world, either,” Anya shrugged. “Besides, it wouldn’t be the same without you,”

Dmitry stared at her. “Anya, I–”

He picked her up and spun her around. He held her, and kissed her again, to make sure it was real. That she was real. 

“So where to?” Anya asked, “We don’t have to go to Petersburg if you don’t want to,”

“I’d go anywhere with you,” Dmitry breathed, his voice low so only she could hear him. 

She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Then let’s go,” she whispered. 

He took her hand and squeezed it, and she smiled up at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, Comments and Key smashes are always welcome! I hope you enjoyed, and you're always welcome to come and yell about Dimya, Anya, Dmitry or Anastasia in general on my tumblr @takemetofantasyland. This will probably be my final update in 2018, so I'll catch you in the new year with more Dimya, and may the new year treat all of us a little kinder! :)


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